


Lethe

by drarrylicious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amnesia, Auror Draco, Auror Harry, Aurors, M/M, Partners in Crime, harry falls first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-10-03 09:29:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17281484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarrylicious/pseuds/drarrylicious
Summary: Harry wakes up in St. Mungo's to find out he's not only been asleep for the past 3 years, but his boyfriend is missing. The world has marked Draco as a traitor and nobody's looking for him anymore. But Harry knows the real Draco, and he's not going to give up like the rest. He starts from scratch the tireless search, month through month, only to find out that he's in the least expected place. The love of his life doesn't remember him, or his world, or magic.Can you make someone fall in love with you?Can you make it twice?





	1. The awakening

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is the worst and I'm sorry. I also haven't written in years and this is the worst so I'm really really sorry. Also english is not my first language so if there's grammar mistakes and you point them out i will correct them and thank you a lot. I'm the worst I know 
> 
> But I got this idea in my head since forever so I'm doing it. I'M TRYING MY BEST 
> 
> BTW in this fic Hermione ditches Ron for his sister, just a head ups in case someone's not okay with that lmao
> 
>  
> 
> The first chapter is kind of weird and my idea is to switch back and forth in time and i hope i'm not ruining it so soon

** Chapter  1 :  The awakening **

 

 _“And I,_ _stepping_ _from_ _this_ _skin_    
_Of_ _old_ _bandages_ _,_ _boredoms_ _,_ _old_ _faces_    
   
_Step_ _to_ _you_ _from_ _the_ _black_ _car_ _of_ _Lethe_ _,_    
_Pure_ _as a baby.”_  

-Sylvia Plath 

 

 

 

 _“I_ _must_ _say_ _: I trust_ _completely_ _the_ _fortuity_ _of_ _meeting_ _you_ _,_  

 _I_ _will_ _never_ _try_ _to_ _forget_ _you_ _,_  

 _and_ _if_ _I_ _tried_ _,_  

 _I trust completely that I_ _would_ _not_ _make_ _it_ _.”_  

                          -Julio Cortázar. 

 

 

 

Draco Malfoy was a man of details. 

He was the kind of person who’d fix the tilted painting, guarantee that the napkins were correctly folded, and make sure that all of the lines of his letter T were the same length. He'd never leave the house without a note tapped on the fridge. He'd never forget a commitment. And he’d never do something unintentionally.  

"You have to know something about Malfoy,” Harry was used to tell the office of Aurors every once in a while, “he does everything on purpose.” 

“Oh, he will pay for this.” Was usually the response to that statement.  

Harry was not, at all, a detail person. Which is why the workplace became the eye of the hurricane when they assigned Draco Malfoy as his partner. 

 _Of course_ _they would,_  he later thought. They wanted Harry to keep an eye on him, basically. Despite Draco made his training as an auror more than successfully, and the fact that he was acquitted during the trial after the war, the Ministry didn’t trust him. They probably never would. He was always going to be the ex-Death Eater in their eyes.  

Which was funny because, ideologically, Harry and Malfoy weren’t so different after all. It was just that Malfoy was  _so_... demmanding.  

“Are you seriously going to leave your desk like that?” He’d daily ask with an utterly judgmental look on his face. Or “Your socks aren’t... matching. How can you live like this?”. He drove Harry insane  _for months_. 

So Draco was, for a while, Harry’s punishment.  

Until he wasn’t anymore.

 

***

 

The beam of light that was reaching Harry’s eyelids finally accomplished to wake him up, so he turned his head around to get away from it. 

“It’s ten in the morning,” a voice said. 

“Mmm,” he wept. 

“That’s eloquent.” The voice replied. “Wake up, Potter. You can’t possibly be that lazy.” 

“I can, and I will.” Harry smiled slightly, and then turned around again, his eyes still closed. Guided by his instinct, he shifted towards the voice. He found a shoulder, then a neck, and decided that was a comfortable place to rest his head. “It’s our sleeping-late day.” 

“No.” Harry felt a few fingers playing with his earlobe, and then pulling it, “I’m hungry.” 

Harry opened his eyes. “Hungry for what?” 

He casually let his hand fall over Draco’s hipbone, over the sheet. 

“Not that, you pervert. I’m hungry  _hungry_ _._ ” Draco’s fingers started playing with Harry’s hair.  

“Oh,” He cried in disappointment. “That’s less fun.” 

“You’re less fun. Go make breakfast.” 

Harry yawned, probably longer than what he’d normally would. But he made breakfast and brought it to the bed. And after breakfast, he fucked him –but not without cleaning the bed because  _crumbles_ , Draco said. 

Then Draco kissed him. And the world around him started spinning.  

A red light passed right by him. He felt his heart was going to beat out of his body. He tried to find Draco. But they were spinning, and spinning, and then everything became dark. 

 

***

 

It felt almost like waking up from a long dream, failing to determine the moment when he became conscious.  

The black spots covering Harry’s sight dazed over a few seconds. He allowed himself to breathe for just a minute. For some reason, every time he tried to grasp for air, his body ached, but the sensation started to pass away after a moment as well. Only then he was able to look around the room he was in.  

He was lying on a white bed with a matching sheet covering him. The four walls surrounding him were painted of a soft beige with pale-pink flowers, and right in front of him hanged an empty painting –its occupant was, evidently, gone. The door was on the right side of the room. Next to him, a wooden bedside table: There was nothing on it. On another note, he didn’t have his glasses. But from what he could tell from his previous visits, he was probably in St. Mungo’s.  

The problem started as soon as he tried to sit up. His arms failed as a support and they slipped through the bed. He was incredibly weak. In fact, he had never felt weaker in his entire life. What the hell happened to him? He rested for a moment before trying again, and the third attempt was successful.  

Now, standing up was a completely different experience. His knees bent as soon as there was weight on them, and he had to cling from the wall to avoid a disastrous fall. He practically  _dragged himself_  to the door and it took longer than what he’d have expected physically possible. He clicked his tongue out of frustration after his fingers wrapped around the doorknob.  _Locked_. And, obviously, he didn’t have his wand with him. 

Harry knocked on the door a few times. He tried to call for help, but only a rasp whimper came out of his throat, burning as it built up. He felt a pit sinking inside of his stomach;  _something_  was wrong with him. Why was he there, locked in, feeling like he had been milled and shat out?  

Finally, when he was starting to lose hope, the door opened and a mildly elder woman appeared in front of him. Her brown eyes widened as she looked at him through her glasses as if seeing a ghost. He...  _he_ _wasn’t_ _a ghost, wasn’t he?_  

The woman’s jaw trembled before any words came out, and she kept looking at him what it felt  _for ages._  

“Mr... Mr. Potter...!” She finally let out, the consternation still evident. “You’re awake!” Harry didn’t know if he was being scolded or not, until she seemed to snap out of the shock and confirmed it, “What are you doing up, for Merlin’s sake!” 

She practically dragged him back to the bed, and Harry couldn’t even attempt to struggle due the state of his body. He tried to ask something  _–anything,_  but the woman was so overwhelmed that he didn’t have the opportunity at all. 

“I have to make some...Some announcements... A lot, a lot of them! You have to stay there. I will bring the – oh, where do I start? You stay right there... Just... Stay there, okay?” The nurse stumbled over her words. Harry couldn’t go anywhere even if he tried.  

A few moments later, he was overrun by a large amount of services. A Vitamix poison was practically shun down his throat, while a male healer forced him to open his eyes and examined his pupils, repeating constantly  _“Incredible. Just incredible”_ , smiling in amazement, like if Harry was his brand-new experiment.He ordered to the nurse to shun down his throat a thick golden potion now –just in case there were symptoms that haven’t appeared yet.  

“I imagine you must be feeling incredibly tired, Mr. Potter.” The healer said to him, “That is completely understandable. But your vital signs seem to be in order. Besides the imminent atony, how do you feel?” 

Terrible. 

“Been better.” Harry mumbled. His voice was still raspy.  

“And he  _talks_! Like it’s nothing.” The healer announced, amazed, like if that was some kind of miracle. 

“He was _walking_ ,” the nurse said, and proudly added, “I’ve seen it.” 

“Just  _now_? Well, that’s just... Excellent.” The healer couldn’t stop smiling. Harry found them both incredibly unsettling. “We’ll have to meet with head of the institution to program your treatment, but as you’re walking and talking in your first day, I expect a good and quick recovery.”  

The healer shook Harry’s hand energetically, then touched his shoulder, mumbled something about taking care of himself, and left before Harry could say something.  

“We already told your friends, dear. They’re on their way.” The nurse kindly said to him. “Have some rest until then.” 

Harry was pretty upset that his voice didn’t come out loud enough for the woman to hear him as she left the room. Was nobody going to explain the situation to him?  

Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. It was... long. Longer than what he ever remembered it to be. Then he touched his face to realize he had grown a beard. For fuck’s sake... how long had he been asleep? He felt a small reassurance as the potions kicked in and the tiring of his muscles vanished and the energy increased. His head wasn’t stumbling around anymore neither. But the pit in his stomach was still there. He rested his back on the wall. He wanted his glasses. And his wand. And an explanation. 

The first relief in that stressful day was when he saw Ron and Hermione coming into the room. He wasn’t relieved, though, that they had almost the same expression as the doctors. 

“Harry... Oh, my god...” Hermione also seemed to believe that he was a ghost.  

“I can’t believe it.” Ron said. “They said it, but I didn’t think...” 

“You’re awake!” Hermione gave him a long hug. Luckily, the potions revitalized him, because otherwise he’d have fallen instantly from the strength of her embrace.  

“Everyone keeps saying that.” Harry was finally given the chance to speak. 

Hermione laughed, then covered her mouth and shook her head, like if she couldn’t still buy what her watery eyes saw. Ron hugged him as well. They both seemed to have his gaze glued onto him, and kept touching him to make sure he was tangible.  

“Mate, this is...” Ron shook his head, too, unable to find the words. “How are you?” 

“Awful. But a bit better now.” Harry answered. “But I need... an explanation. Nobody in here tells me anything.” He sighed, “What happened?” 

Ron and Hermione looked at each other; their smiles fading slowly.  

“You don’t remember?” Ron asked. “Anything?” 

Harry made an enormous effort to recall something. What was his last memory before falling asleep? It was all blurry. He shook his head. 

They both sat on the end of his bed, and suddenly the excitement of his awakening vanished.  

“How... how long have I been unconscious?” Harry asked, nervous.  

Hermione looked at him for a long time before answering, as if she outweighed the pros and cons of the truth. “Three years.” 

Harry felt his heart sinking to his feet. That couldn’t be right. 

“What... How? How did this happen to me?” 

“You were in a mission with... your partner.” Hermione explained. 

“Draco. “ Harry said. “Where is he?” 

“You were supposed to investigate a possible rapture in a location near Hogsmeade. But it was an ambush. You were attacked, Harry.” Hermione continued, ignoring Harry’s question. “You didn’t just fall unconscious; you were under a really dark, powerful spell. There was nothing the entire wizarding world could do to wake you up. We thought... It’s been so long...” Hermione looked away as her voice broke, cleaning a tear. 

“Oh,” Harry gasped. Some images started to come up.  

He and Draco had decided to stay in bed until late in the morning because their shift was at night. They had coffee and pancakes for brunch, he remembered it because Draco’s breath smelled like coffee when he started kissing him, right after he finished the last bite of his meal, his fingers lying on Harry’s bare lap.  

It was a Friday night.  

They went to work. Draco was finishing a report they were supposed to submit over a month ago, when they received an unexpected notification from the head of the Auror Office. But it went wrong. So wrong... 

Harry shook his head.  

“Where’s Draco?” 

Hermione didn’t answer. Ron looked away. 

“I made a question.” Harry demanded. “What happened?” 

“We...” Ron cleared his throat, “Nobody really knows where he is. He disappeared... literally.” 

“What do you mean he  _disappeared_?” 

“It’s...” Hermione winced, as if saying it hurt as well, “He had to be involved with the ambush, Harry. It’s the only explanation.” 

“That’s bullshit. We both were attacked. I remember now.” 

“Well, what exactly do you remember, Harry?” 

Harry closed his eyes. “We went upstairs, and...” There were brief flashes in his head, but nothing concrete. Death Eaters. Spells almost catching them. Then fire. The place was falling down. And then Draco wasn’t there anymore, and the darkness took over. “I lost him. But that doesn’t mean anything. We had like ten death eaters behind us.” 

“That still makes sense. I think he tricked you to go to that place, Harry. I investigated about the rapture in the Ministry, and no one knows who made the calling. It’s all very strange.” Hermione hurried to add after the dead-eye look in Harry’s face “I know how this must sound for you now, but-” 

Harry shook his head. “He’s missing and you’re not looking for him. That's what’s happening.” 

“We looked  _everywhere_ , Harry.” Ron said. “Everyone did. The whole ministry was... in despair. You have no idea how crazy it was like back then. The whole place was teared into pieces, it took us weeks to search in every single corner. We thought we’d find his body, at least close to yours. But he wasn’t there. Then we explored the towns nearby, interrogated the residents, searched in every hospital, in every single damn place... but there was not a trace of him. He was just  _gone._ ” 

“I’m sorry.” Hermione’s voice was quiet and calm, as if that made it easier. “We know how this must sound for you. But it’s the only reasonable explanation, Harry, after all these years...”  

“You don’t know! You don’t know what happened. It’s Draco, Hermione.”  

Harry was genuinely offended that they could believe something like that. That was an accusation they could’ve done at Hogwarts, when they were fifteen years old; but Draco had been working as an auror for three years, two of them in which he dated Harry. It was ridiculous.  

But he was missing. He had been missing a long, long time. Would he still be alive? 

He leaned forward as the need to throw up twisted his gut, but nothing besides spit reached the floor. His stomach was empty.  

“Oh, no...  I’m so sorry. We shouldn’t have talked this much.” Hermione cried, grabbing Harry’s arm as she came closer. “You need to take care of yourself first...Ron, call the nurse.” 

“I’m fine.” Harry firmly stated.  

He wasn’t fine, but it was for all the wrong reasons.  

Someone did  _something_  to Draco Malfoy and he was going to find out why.


	2. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thank you so much for the kudos and comments, it means sooo much to me. As I said before, I started writing again after a few years and I am struggling with various things and I still feel very weird and insecure, so I really appreciate any help and anything you can say to me.

**Chapter 2:** **The beginning**

 

Sometimes, the air inside of the Ministry of Magic was so rare it became suffocating. And that was an especially suffocating afternoon. Harry stood still for a fraction of a second in front of a magically positioned window –they were, after all, underneath the ground; and felt the cold wind tickling his neck and face. 

Anthony Goldstein was not a good leader. The official Minister of Magic was  affected by a severe case of Mumblemumps, and was replaced momentarily by his assistant, according to his also (obviously) new assistant. The young man didn’t have much more preparation than Harry did, but he wasn’t going to let that come in the way of commanding instead of delegating. 

He took the elevator to Level Two, to the Auror Department, and came across the view of Draco seeming to be taking a nap, and Ron turning the old memos on his desk into several actual-flying birds of paper that flew across the room, over Ron’s head, as though they were light bugs around a lantern. 

“Unfortunately,” Harry sighed, entering to the office, waving a thin brown folder in his hand, “we’ve got work to do now.”

“So, no more sex during work hours?” Draco asked. He was comfortably lying on the seat at his desk, stretching his legs on the floor. He let out a yawn as Harry walked to them, and drove off an annoying bird with a soft slap of his hand. 

“Please,” Ron winced. “Can’t you wait until I’m gone?” 

“Presumably.” Draco answered, “I’m not very keen to sharing, you know.”

Ron ignored that comment, though the expression on his face did not say the same. “I just wanted to tell you both that the dinner at our place is still on. I also wanted to leave my office because Tonks is driving me crazy.”

“Still struggling with the Black Paws?”

“Endlessly.” Ron messed with his hair with one hand, then got up from Harry’s chair. The Black Paws was a silly, though indecipherable case of a curious paw marks made on several personalities’ front doors and seemed to be unable to clean off. Though Ron was certain it was the work of a 15 year old gang, the case was still open. “So, see you around 8 p.m.?” 

“Sure.” Harry shrugged. “We’ll see you there.”

Ron vanished the birds with a flick of his wand and they ended up diving into the trash can at the corner of the room. 

Draco had the consideration of waiting until Ron had closed the door of the office to ask, “Do we really? Do we really have to go?” 

Harry rested on Draco’s desk. 

He let out a breath before saying, “We already missed the last two dinners they’ve arranged.” 

Draco closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation. “I know, I just... wished we could stay... just the two of us tonight.”

Draco’s fingers tied around Harry’s index finger and pulled from it. Harry looked at him –Jeez, he could be so manipulative whenever he set his mind into it, and made a really  _really_  big effort to say, “Hermione would kill us.”

Draco let go of him and rolled his eyes. “What did Kingsley send us?”

Harry opened the folder. “Not Kingsley. He's sick. Goldstein is replacing him.”

Kingsley had been the Ministry of Magic for the last couple of years, and ever so he personally delivered the cases he ought to be most relevant in his own hands. 

_Missing wizard_ , red calligraphy read over the top of the report. Stanley Shunpike, aged 32, last seen during the night at the Leaky Cauldron on march, 1st -three weeks ago. The report let them know that the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol attending the case hadn’t been taking it seriously before, since Shunpike –according to the testimony of his own friends,  _used to disappear pretty often and came back with a sharp hangover_. But this time something was different: three different people that knew Shunpike were claiming they had seen him around their house, in a strange-like manner, only during late in the night. 

“What does strange-like stand for?” Harry muttered. He remembered Stanley very well, ever since they first met in the Knight Bus. “Stanley was a peculiar person.” 

“I guess since these idiots haven’t written that down, we’ll have to figure it out.” Draco replied, with a shred of frustration, “If they’ve seen him, how is he classified as missing still?”

“I guess the person who took the testimony didn’t think they were very reliable.” Harry turned the page, where Stanley’s dark eyes were looking back at him from a magical photography. “Here, it says that  _‘the witnesses were under the impression of being trapped in a nightmare. Therefore_ _, the presence of_ _hallucination_ _, ghost presence or hex effect must not be eliminated’_.”

“So we can have someone dead, cursed, or in a really long after-party. That sounds like work.”

Harry and Draco put on his coats and abandoned the Ministry of Magic.

***

The first and most aggravating part of the job was to interrogate the alleged witnesses. 

The first one, a young lady called Ambrosia, informed them that every night, since four days ago, Stanley would stand up on the feet of her bed, staring at her, and with such a terrifying presence that she wouldn’t dare or could move whatsoever. When the pair asked her about the possibilities of her just having a livid nightmare, she hesitated for a moment and then replied,  _“I have never felt such a dreadful feeling, not even in my sleep.”_ which kind of made them not want to ask any more questions. 

The second witness was a friend of Stanley, Hoz Spike, and he claimed that he’d go to his house, open all the doors and windows and then leaved. Spike said that he tried to talk to him on several occasions but he’d get no answer. His presence was always accompanied by a rare chilling sensation, similar to being in front of a dementor. 

And the third one, an old man called Wainwright -whose glasses were broke and whose house had a persistent smell of something like soup; said that Shunpike tried to strangle him. If Harry and Draco had heard those bizarre circumstances second-hand, they’d hesitate before buying the story. It wasn’t like anything they’ve dealt with in the past. Nonetheless, that was the reason they’ve chosen that job. And this last accusation wasn’t soothing at all.

“ _You’re_  going to tell Hermione we’re not coming over tonight.” Harry whispered. 

They decided to stay in Wainwright’s house, since the most dangerous threat, according to the witnesses, was against him. The man made them a warm cup of chamomile tea and scones (that Draco turned down) before heading to bed. 

Draco took the first shift as Harry slept on the dingy couch of the living room. He wandered the place after casting a lumus spell –the house was entirely dark, since they preferred to maintain the conditions of the previous encounters. His fingers painted a trail off the dust over some pictures’ frames; and he invested a few minutes intruding in the old books piled up on the coffee table. There were a few interesting titles, and he did appreciate a nice antiquity as much as anyone else, so he didn’t feel much guilt spying on them.

It was almost 2a.m. -almost Harry’s shift, when he heard steps outside of the house (he had casted a noise boosting spell to be completely conscious of his surroundings). Carefully, he walked to the couch, bent on his knees, and placed a hand very softly over Harry’s shoulder. He was aware of his usual abrupt awakenings. 

“Shh,” Draco mumbled, as he handed him the glasses that were on the coffee table. “Someone’s here.”

Harry found it hard to walk towards the door as his eyes got used to the darkness in the house. 

It was, indeed, Stanley Shunpike. Or some strange version of him. The pupils of his eyes were almost completely white -barely in sight, and a putrefied odor unfurled of him. His clothes were dirty and ripped off in several spots, not like if he had been attacked since there were no visible wounds, but more like if he hadn’t showered in a long while. A low snore came out of his throat as he breathed, slowly but nonstop. 

There was something wrong with him. He was... unnatural. Eery.

Harry was crouching behind the table, and Draco was hidden behind the front door; in the obscure house, silent and pressing their respective wands between their fingers, watchful of any movement. They had agreed on letting him act by free will before revealing themselves, since they didn’t know what they were dealing with. 

Stanley Shunpike gave a few steps inside of the house and remained still. He didn’t look around, but he seemed to be sensing something. He didn’t have a wand.

He stumbled over a few steps towards Wainwright’s room, at the end of the hall. Harry and Draco followed him at a slow pace. But Draco’s foot stepped on a lose tile and it creaked. The man’s body instantly directed towards where Draco was standing, but he didn’t seem to be completely aware of his presence, as if he couldn’t catch the gaze of him.

Harry made Draco a cautious sign with his hand, seeing as he was ready to defend himself. 

“Stanley,” Harry asked, with a very calm, thin voice. There was a precarious movement as a response. “It’s me... I’m Harry... Harry Potter. We met a few years ago. Are you okay?” 

The heavy breathing was the only response he got, but there was no evidence of violence. Harry slowly directed his hand towards Stanley’s forearm. 

“Stanley, we need you to come with us, okay?” 

He realized as soon as the tip of his fingers were placed on his arm that it was a mistake. From his persistent passivity, he suddenly switched to a very aggressive response. He let out an inhuman growl as he pushed Harry to the floor, with such an abrupt and powerful grip that he couldn’t even begin to resist. His wand fell from his hand as a sharp pain pierced his right shoulder.

“ _Depulso_ _!_ ” Draco said. Stanley hit the door at the end of the hall with a loud bang. And before he could get the chance to recover, he added quickly,  “ _Incarceous_.”

Several invisible ropes tied him up on the floor, while he continued to struggle. He was showing some incredible resistance having in mind his size and respective strength.

“That was... unexpected,” Harry mumbled. 

“Do you think he’s under an Imperius charm?” Draco asked, giving Harry his hand, in which he leaned to get up. 

“He’s something else.” Harry said, and then looked for his wand. Stanley’s scream could still be heard. 

 “A zombie?” 

“In Britain?” Harry frowned. “I don’t think so.”

Wainwright opened the door with a face as pale as his white dressing gown. “What happened to him?”

“We’re going to take him to St. Mungo’s to find out.” Harry answered.

A chill went down his spine. He had not still completely shaken off the affright of the previous incident.

 

***

 

Draco gazed at the wound in Harry’s shoulder with a hint of concern. They were sitting on a sofa in the hospital’s hall. They had been offered a cup of tea while they waited for an enlightenment about Stanley’s state from the Spell Damage Department. 

“He didn’t  _bite_  me, if you’re worried about me becoming a zombie.” Harry said. Noticing Draco’s expression, he explained, “That’s how you become a zombie in  _muggle_  films.”

Draco tapped softly on Harry’s shoulder, encompassing the dark-red cut, ignoring what he considered the attempt of a joke. “Does it hurt?”

Harry shook his head, “Just a bit.”

“That guy scared the shit out of me.” Draco said. “I mean, he didn’t seem precisely dangerous. But there was something...”

“I know.” Harry looked at him. “It feels like being in front of a dementor. Something's not right.”

Luna Lovegood’s voice snapped them back to reality.

“Harry. Draco.” She called softly from the door of the headland. “We checked for his vital signs. We had to give him a Sleep Potion to do so, since you both seemed to have upset him blatantly.”

“Yeah, having in mind he tried to kill Harry, it was...”

“And?” Harry desperately wanted to know what it was about, so he cut Draco mid-sentence.

“There are none.” Luna pursed her lips. “Clinically, we’d have to consider him dead. But, monitoring his behavior... We decided to keep the watch on him for a few more days. Just in case he decides to, you know, come alive again.”

Luna said these words as if they made total sense to her.

“But, what is he?” Harry asked. “Is he actually dead? Like... an  _inferi_?”

Harry knew this couldn’t be true. An inferi would never react to his own name. They were mere corpses, puppets. They were dealing with something entirely different.

“I can’t say that. He’s on observation.”

“Can we come visit?”

“Only from five to seven in the evening.” Luna said, then pointed at Harry’s shoulder and with a quick spell, his cut scarred and became a light nude color. “And bring Draco, Harry. I love your visits.”

Harry couldn’t help but to grin slightly. “Thanks, Luna.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go home.” He asked.

Harry didn’t make him ask twice. 

***

Harry recalled that memory as if it were happening for the first time. He relived all of those sensations, fears, and longings. And he wished for all of them to disappear, because if he had just rejected that case, as his gut was telling him to, everything might have turned out different.

Maybe there wouldn’t have been a tragedy in the Malfoy Manor.

Maybe Draco wouldn’t have disappeared, and Harry wouldn't have had his eyes closed for three years. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls don't give up on me. I'm trying my best. And will try to do a better job in each chapter x


	3. A Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Thank you so much to the people that let me know they support the story, it means soooo much to me.  
> I really tried with this chapter, and I think it's a BIT less bad than the previous one. I hope the timing's not confusing...  
> Please let me know what you think!

**Chapter 3:** **A name**

 

Harry’s recovery had taken a slower pace than what he’d think possible, though everyone seemed to think differently. By the course of two weeks, he was capable of walking decently, maintaining a conversation and even running for two minutes, due to a recovery treatment that consisted in a thick disgusting yellow potion that he had to drink before his exercises. He had even gotten a haircut and shaved the beard, so he looked a bit more like himself again.

In the third week, they gave him back his wand –though it was the tenth time he asked for it. 

“Only simple spells,” The healer warned to Harry, “Or I will be forced to take it back from you.”

Not only his body had been affected by the state. Harry had been informed, constantly and exhaustively, that after such a long time in stagnation, his magic had to be trained again. A significant effort could cast an outbreak he couldn’t control, or an acute weakening of its power. 

But he was determined to be discharged from St Mungo’s as soon as possible, and find out what happened to Draco. He had to prove the team monitoring his health that he was wholesome, sane and capable. And so he tortured himself through endless sessions of the spells he had learned during his first years at Hogwarts: he moved the objects of his room, ordering them and reordering them over and over, he lit the candles off and on repeatedly, and from afar passed the pages of  _The Quibbler_  that Luna would sneak into his room every week. Harry wished she could just once bring  _The Daily Prophet_  in, so he could get a glance of what the outside world was like now, but he didn’t dare to hurt the feelings of one of the only sources of real communication he counted with.

Every morning and every night, he’d get his pupils checked, ordered to drink some potion that he stopped questioning – but probably to get a good night of sleep, and asked to perform a few tasks that went from bending his knees and arms to check strength and flexibility, to cast a few spells that he had already done one hundred times earlier that day. Then, he’d get congratulated on his advanced recovery and let alone again in the excessively white room.

The only good expectations through his days were Ron and Hermione’s visits. There were a few reporters that also attempted to talk to Harry, but he gave an explicit order to only let people he knew personally to come in. The last thing he wanted was a bunch of strangers asking him how he felt, when he already got asked that more than necessary. 

Hermione came over during the morning, before going to work at the Wizengamot in the Ministry. Ron, unlike her, used to visit Harry at the evening. This seemed a bit strange to Harry, but whenever he asked Ron about it, he’d deviate the topic of conversation to the last case he and Tonks had been working on, or how the new Aurors that replaced Harry and Draco were complete morons. 

“Do you think they’re going to let me work in the Auror office again?” Harry asked, suddenly looking down at his own hands. Certainly not with the abilities he counted with right then, but maybe after training for a few weeks more...

“Are you kidding me?” Ron said, “You were the best in the department by far, and you were the head of the office. It'd be ridiculous to not give you back your job. Although...” Ron’s excitement started to vanish from his face, “with this new guy in charge...”

“New guy? Who?” 

Ron hesitated before answering. Harry knew that they had been told to not give him too much information at once, because it could be overwhelming to him, so he always clung to every bit of info he could catch with very sharp nails.

“There’s a new Ministry of Magic.” Ron didn’t seem very convinced on what he was doing.

“How come? What happened to Kingsley?”

Ron looked around and let out a breath, as if someone was forcing him to tell the truth through Veritaserum.

“He hasn’t been doing very well lately.”

“What happened to him?”

“He’s kind of... He’s kind of dead, Harry.”

“Dead?” Harry’s hand tightened on the sheet above his lap, “What do you mean by kind of?”

“No, I mean – _dead_ dead.” Ron corrected, “He  _is_  dead. Has... been for a while,” He cleared his throat, “Remember when he got sick? A few months before you... you know. Well, he never really got better. He stayed home for a few more months, until... it finally happened. It was kind of expected by that point.”

Harry couldn’t imagine a situation in which Kingsley’s death could’ve been expected. He had always been the strongest one in the group, and it was strange to think that a common sickness would take over him. 

“Well, who’s the Ministry now?”

“Anthony Goldstein. Remember him?” Harry sighed and leaned against the wall, to which Ron replied, “Yeah, I know. I think he doesn’t have much of an idea on what he’s doing. He even had to create a department to clean off his messes. But he’s not all that bad, at least he lets us manage the office any way we want to. He doesn’t get involved or anything.”

Harry looked at Ron and felt a tinge of nostalgia inside his guts. He really missed his normal life. Waking up by Draco’s side, going to work, hanging out with Ron, Tonks and Hermione after work... All of that had been taken away from him.

“But you know... You’re going to be back on track soon! At least, that’s what the healers tell us all the time.” Ron noticed his friend had become a bit gloomy after that conversation. “You’ll see, in the blink of an eye, you’ll be drinking a butter beer with me, and Tonks, and...” He seemed to remember something that got in his throat, “and maybe even those two morons of the office.”

“Did something happen between you and Hermione?” Harry asked. Three years ago, they had moved in together, but it was obvious that he had missed many things. “I can take it, Ron, you know. I don’t need to be protected like everyone else seems to think.”

But it seemed that it was Ron the one who couldn’t stand the explanation.

“Harry, it was great seeing you, but –I really have to go. You know, I have the night shift tonight and –Tonks really doesn’t like it when I’m late.” 

Harry knew that it was extremely early for the night shift, but he didn’t say anything, and instead blamed himself as he watched Ron leave, in his rush forgetting the cup of coffee he had brought on the floor.  He sighed once again, watching the sky-blue (though always empty) painting that was in front of his bed. 

Why did he have to bring that up? 

He reached for his wand on the bedside table, said  _“_ _accio_ _teacup”_ , and started to practice  _Engorgio_  and  _Reducio_ for what he thought to be ages until the hour of his night check came. 

Hermione was even more difficult to dupe on – about  _anything_. He often tried to play the pity card on her, but it rarely worked. 

“I’m sorry, Harry, but I’d be in a mess if I got caught bringing you a copy of  _The Daily Prophet_. They specifically told us not to expose you that way.”

“Is it so bad outside?” Harry asked, trying to hide his nuisance. “That I can’t know what’s happening?”

“Of course not,” Hermione explained, “It’s just that... they’re talking about you a lot, Harry. Well, it was likely they would, after everyone had expected you to never wake up and...”

“I can imagine what it must be like to have people talking about me.” Harry said, sarcastically, but he regretted it instantly. He didn’t want to get her as upset as Ron with his constant interrogatories. “I can handle it.”

“I know how you feel, Harry. But you have to be patient...”

“I am.” Harry rapidly interrupted, “I’m being extremely patient. But can you blame me if I’m losing my mind in here? I have nothing to do all day, and I have to stay here knowing that Draco could be out there...”

“We talked about this, Harry.”

“In  _god-knows-where_  doing  _god-knows-what!_  Meanwhile, everyone keeps moving on with their lives like it’s nothing...”

“Harry.” Hermione called. He could see the pity reflected in her eyes. “It’s going to be hard to take it in... I know how much you loved him. But you will have to let that go. You’re thinking about researching once you get out. It's only going to hurt you even more. You have to take care of yourself.”

Harry looked at her friend in the eyes. 

“What if it was me?” 

“What?”

“What if I disappeared, instead of Draco?” Harry defiantly asked, “Would you assume that I went to hide somewhere, just like that?”

“We didn’t assume anything!” Hermione cried, “And you’re not having in mind the differences between you and Malfoy.”

She even called him by his last name, something he hadn’t heard from her in years.

“I’m just thinking what’s best for you.” 

Harry had been hearing that phrase over and over during the past weeks, and it seemed to have lost its meaning by then. 

“I’m not asking for your help,” Harry finally stated, calmly but distant, “But I’m going to do it anyways.”

Hermione’s hand caressed softly the side of his forehead, her thumb sinking on his hair. She had those grave pity eyes again, like if she was contemplating a stray dog on the street. But Harry didn’t break contact, knowing this was a big opportunity. 

“Okay.” She finally said, after a long moment of silence. “But only once you’re out of here.”

Harry almost grinned.

 

***

 

It took two more weeks to convince the healers that he was capable of taking care of himself on his own. He was required to visit the hospital every fortnight to monitor that his health and magic hadn’t been affected, but at least he was able to go into the  _real world_. 

They handed him a bag with his belongings –which weren’t much, just a few clothes Ron had brought from his apartment, and his wand. They insisted thoroughly that he shouldn’t Apparate on his first day out, so Ron was supposed to pick him up and give him a ride in one of the magical cars provided by the Ministry. 

While his friend was running a bit late, Harry wandered through the halls of the hospital, anxious to leave the building. He found himself drawn by the fourth floor, in the Spell Manage Department. Some of the latest memories he had before passing out were from one of the rooms that hall lead to.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to recall one of his visits, trying to  _maybe_  remember something he had overlooked and could tie this whole mess with some sense. He needed something to make sense...

 

***

 

“Here? Again?” A voice behind Harry asked. He had felt a slight wind reaching his neck, and imagined that someone had Apparated behind him.

“How did you know?” Harry didn’t turn around. His gaze was focused on the door in front of him, waiting for it to open up.

“It’s almost five... and you kind of fit in the obsessive-compulsive disorder category, did you know?”

Harry looked at Draco, grinning mildly. 

“I knew it was a mistake to introduce you to  _m_ _uggle_  magazines.” 

Before Draco could reply, the door in front of them opened, and a blonde woman announced, “You can come in now.”

“Are there any news?” Harry asked, walking to the door.

Luna shook her head, “Same old, same old.”

Which meant Stanley Shunpike was still a mystery for the wizarding world. He wasn’t alive, but he wasn’t truly dead neither. 

“He’s being very friendly today. He only tried to strangle me twice.” Luna informed sweetly, as Harry and Draco entered into the room and she was leaving. Harry thought Draco whispered a very low _oh, good_.

Stanley Shunpike was sitting down in the corner of the room, hugging his knees, not moving at all. He had the same old, unkempt clothes (Harry imagined it was impossible for someone to make him change), but it seemed that they had used a cleaning spell on him, since the odor, though still present, wasn’t so strong as the previous visit. 

“Hi,” Harry said. He walked over to the white line that gleamed a few feet over the floor, which was actually a protective spell. Neither Harry nor Stan could cross that line without hurting themselves. 

Draco stayed behind Harry, though he did observe the situation.

He didn’t understand Harry’s obsession completely. Of course he was also fascinated with the idea of a new kind of necromancy with no previous record, but visiting Shunpike was completely useless. And not even mentioning that Harry seemed to think he’d sometime come to chat with him. That was obviously not going to happen, whatever that was inside of that head was no longer a proper functioning brain. 

“Stanley...we’re here to visit you. I was here yesterday. Do you remember?”  Harry called again, getting absolutely no response. 

And so on was basically what was those visits consisted in. Stanley would sometimes move towards the line, in front of Harry and looked at him as though there was something, _something_  that he recognized about him, but he didn’t talk or do anything else. 

“Who did this to you?” Harry would often ask. “I want to help you. But you need to give me something. Stanley...”

Sometimes Draco would leave the room because he could not stand it. He didn’t understand what was supposed to be Harry’s point, and he had tried to talk him out of it dozen of times, but the next day, there he was again, punctual at five o’clock, during the visitors hour. 

But that one time was different. 

While Draco was in the hall, trying to avoid Luna’s concurrent debates of whether he believed the Minister of Magic was under the secret labor of covering the existence Crumple-Horned Snornacks in Britain; an horrifying shriek that came from Shunpike’s room alerted him. 

When he came back in, Stanley Shunpike was aggressively grabbing Harry’s shoulders, his body against the protective white line, which seemed to be pulling from him, but not powerfully enough. Draco cursed quickly whoever did their job so badly with that spell, and grabbed his wand. 

“Don’t.” Harry whispered. 

Draco frowned and realized Harry had his wand on his hand as well. It was low, but it was pointing towards Shunpike as well. 

“He recognized me.” Harry explained lowly. He was breathing heavily, but he didn’t resist to the grip. 

When Draco approached the scene he could hear what Harry was talking about. There was a very low raspy groan coming out of Shunpike’s mouth.

“...rry...ter...” 

His eyes seemed about to pop out, and there was something both eery and suddenly extremely humane on his expression and Draco wondered how could that be. A chill went down his spine, and he resisted the urge to separate the two. He didn’t like that at all. 

“Stanley. Who did this to you?” 

He caught two, three, four audible and raspy breathes before the answer could come out. 

“...ve...ve...”

“Who?” Harry asked, his heart pounding in his chest both from excitement and fear –after all, he was aware that he did not know what was he capable of in that state.

“...ve...ry...”

“Very?” Harry said.

“Avery.” Draco corrected, suddenly a bit curious, “There’s a Death Eater called Avery.”

“Is it? Is it Avery? He did this to you?” Harry asked, but Stanley had suddenly become uninterested in him. He let Harry go –and he sighed of relief as he made a step back, but he started gazing intensely into Draco’s face, just as he was doing with Harry a moment before.

“...foy...” 

He pointed at Draco with a finger that trembled gravely; Draco seemed a bit unnerved, but he didn’t step back. 

“...did...it...”

Draco became speechless. Shunpike kept walking to him, but his presence became suddenly more threatening and he couldn’t move. 

“What do you mean?” Harry’s attempts were in vain, it was like if he didn’t exist anymore.

“...foy...did...this...me...”

In a moment of common sense, Draco finally pointed his wand at him.

“Why are you saying that?”

“...did...this...me...”

“Stop!” Draco yelled. He didn’t know why that accusation made him so angry.

“..foy...did...this...”

“Shut up!”

“Stanley!” Harry had walked next to Draco, “What do you mean?”

“...did... this...to...” he continued to mumble, every time more consistently, “Ma...foy...”

Luna had walked back into the room, concerned by the screams that could be heard from all over the floor. 

“What’s wrong?” 

As soon as the words came out of Luna’s lips, the room became invaded by a deafening scream emitted by Stanley, with such loudness it didn’t seem possible. The noise compelled them to cover their ears in anguish, but as their hands were barely able to move, the air became a smoke that wouldn’t get inside of their throats.

“Get out!” Harry warned with the very last oxygen on his chest, “Get out!”

It took Harry a tad to find the door in the cloud of smoke, that was also invading the hallway now. He wanted to ask Draco and Luna if they were okay, but he couldn’t stop coughing not even to catch a breath. He stumbled onto something, or someone, which made him lose balance and ended up on the floor. He grasped tightly his wand. 

Then he saw a green spark and the smoke started to dissipate. The first thing he could catch a glimpse on was Luna standing up in the middle of the hallway, with her wand up in the air, continuing to cast the green sparks that replaced the smoke, until it faded completely.

“Harry,” Draco yelled from somewhere he wasn’t able to decode completely, “Behind you!”

He turned around a saw a shadow turning around the hall.  _Stanley._

Harry got up, staggering, and followed the shadow. His sight wasn’t one hundred percent clear since the smoke, but he still managed to throw an  _Incarceous_  that caught the man once again. 

He leaned against the wall to catch a few breaths, and only then he brought Stanley back to his room.

“You need to improve the security, Luna. Or we’ll have to take him to Azkaban.” Harry stated. He didn’t want to do that, not until he knew what he was. But this, although it gave them a clue, was an indication of anything but a good forecast. 

“Don’t worry, Harry, I will. I just had hopes that he’d... come back. You know?” Luna replied, disappointed. Her eyes were red due the smoke as well. 

“I know.” 

It took him a while to find Draco in the toilet, with the appearance of someone who had just thrown up.

“Don’t ask.” Draco gave him a deadly look before washing his face. “Did you catch him?”

Harry nodded.

“Good.”

“Well, at least now we know he’s not an  _Inferi_.” Harry said, “And we got a name. Avery.”

“Why do you think he said that about me?” Draco didn’t seem to have heard him. His eyes depicted a hint of concern, but of sadness as well. 

“There’s something obviously wrong with him, Draco. Don’t pay attention to that.”

Draco looked at him. They both knew that wasn’t true, but they choose to believe it for that night. Harry's hand searched for his. Draco felt the warmth of Harry’s palm against his cold hand, the tip of his thumb caressing him softly.

Draco’s head leaned into Harry’s shoulder, and...

 

***

 

“Harry?” A voice asked. “Harry!”

“What?” Harry looked around, not sure where that voice had come from.

“Ron is waiting for you outside. He says he’s sorry for being late, but that he’s got a good excuse.” Luna explained calmly. 

“Oh.” Harry was still a bit bemused, “Right. Thank you.”

“Huh? What do you think?” Ron had a big smile on his face and a presumptuous tone of voice. 

Harry guessed that the excuse was that he got an insanely enormous BMW as Harry’s ride. He pretended to be excited as he got inside the car. He was truly glad to be out of St Mungo’s for once and all, and to be with his friend, but there was a knot in his stomach that would not untie when he came to the realization that he’d have to sleep alone in a king-sized bed that night.


	4. A clue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this thank you so much!! I know it's not a great work... I'm trying to get better, but it's hard to be constant when you work -sigh- so anyways, if you're reading i love you and please let me know your thoughts.   
> BTW Hermione's a lesbian!! no regrets.

** Chapter ** **  4:  ** ** A clue **

The heaviness of the silence in Harry’s department became slightly unnoticed the first two days. Ron and Hermione would come by every few hours with something to eat, helping to clean or rearrange his belongings. They still ought to be avoiding each other, but he was content they stopped by. 

But once he had settled in, his friends seemed to run out of excuses to visit him. During the weekend, longing for Monday to come and visit the Ministry of Magic, he started to leave things out of place on purpose just so he’d have something to do later. The portraits on his bedside table stared at him so forthrightly he decided to turn them around to be able to sleep. He shut down the two top drawers of the cabinet since he couldn’t stand to open them and see Draco’s clothes, neither he dared to move them from their place.

While he was glad to be out of the hospital, he had anticipated the comb of unpleasant sensations that’d arrive once he was on his own. Without a potion that eased the food to be digested, and regulating his sleep, he found himself forcing every meal, no matter how small, to get down his throat. But he knew how necessary it was to get perfectly healthy again –he was so skinny he could see his own ribs through the skin every time he took a deep breath. Hermione was of a great help when she handed him a bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion, so he could get through the night without mayor disturbances. 

“So... when are we going to talk about what happened between you and Ron?” Harry finally asked, one morning while making two cups of green tea. Hermione’s hand stopped halfway towards the toasted bread on the table. “Come on, Hermione. I know something happened, and you’re obviously not together anymore, I just don’t know exactly what caused it.”

Hermione sighed and rested her back on the chair , looking at the toast as if she would never be able to eat it. 

“Did one of you cheat on each other?”

“ God, n o!  Well... k ind of- I mean...” She struggled , her hands twisting the table cloth,  before letting out, “ _ Yes.  _ But it’s not what you think. I  ha v e  been seeing someone else.”

“Huh,” Harry commented, surprised but intrigued, as he took a seat before her, not realizing the pot was starting to chant. “You, Hermione Granger? You don’t even cheat on your eye test.”

“It’s different.” Hermione  exposed .

“How come?”

She nervously put a strand of hair behind her ear, which immediately fell back to the place it was before. 

“It’s a woman.”

Harry’s eyebrows went inevitably up as he stumbled on what words to say. Her friend had never showed that  _ inclination _  ever before, that he could recall. 

“And it’s not just any woman, Harry.” She continued , with a disquiet tone of voice . “It’s Ginny.” 

Harry blinked a few times, but if he was dreaming, that didn’t  work to wake him up.

“You’re...  _ kidding me _ , aren’t you?”

Hermione shook her head. “ It  kind of was always there, but I couldn’t -we couldn’t figure it out. I spent one entire summer in The Burrow and it started being more and more unavoidable. Things between me and Ronald were strained. They were since you  got ...  _ like that. _  You were like the glue keeping us together, I promise.  And then Ginny just...  I can’t explain why it happened then and there, but it was... inevitable. I know you understand how that feels. And it just happened. We fell in love.  And I realized that it was something that had always been there and I was too afraid to recognize it. ”

“Wow, that’s...” Harry was speechless. It was  information  he didn’t know how to process, “ When was this ?”

“Like a year  and a half  ago or so. We’ve actually moved in together two months ago.” Seemingly against her will, a grin showed up at the tip of her lips. 

Harry let out a breath as he rested her back on the chair, his hands running through his hair until they met at the top of his head. He thought of Ron.  The poor man  had to live through both his best friends (one of them whom was his girlfriend, and his lifelong crush, to make things better) date his little sister.  And he and Hermione had been together for years. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how devastating it must’ve been for him.

“That was a low blow, Hermione.” Harry finally admitted.  He stood up and put out the fire of the pot just when the water started to overflow. He walked back with the two cups of steaming tea.  “But, to be honest, it’s also kind of amazing.”

She looked at him,  astonished,  “Wait, so you’re not mad?”

Harry grabbed a toast and gave it a bite.  “Why’d I be mad?”

“Because  of  you and Ginny...  You two used to date. ”

“That was a long time ago, ‘Mione...” Harry said, then reached out for her hand, and held it tightly. The bond between him and Ginny had been brotherly since a long time, and sometimes it truly felt like if they had never been romantically involved in the past. “I’m honestly glad  _ this _ ... you... have come out. People mustn't have taken it so well, didn’t they?”

Harry remembered all the awkward conversation and gazes and the demeaning looks directed at him when he started dating Draco. It wasn’t only that he was dating an ex-Death Eater, but he was dating a  _ male _  ex-Death Eater.

“Ronald went crazy. I mean...  _ I know _ . I can’t blame  him.  But Ginny... she was so wonderful. She handled everything perfectly. You know how she gets when she puts her mind onto something. She made it clear to her family that it was going to happen and that they could accept it or else she’d leave. Family gatherings are rather awkward still, obviously...”

Harry couldn’t help but to laugh. He could only imagine the kind of jokes Fred and George would say regarding that situation. 

 ***

 

That Monday, at mid-morning, when he arrived in the Ministry of Magic, he was welcomed by diverse reactions. A few people followed his path with their eyes, slapping whoever was next to them to get them to join them in that  unique  vision, and then proceeded to whisper behind his back. On the other hand, the rest of the people would greet him enthusiastically, so for a while he got cornered –getting his hand shaken, shoulders patted, the usual questions, _  yeah, _ _ I'm back; no, I’m just visiting; alright, everything’s alright... now, if you excuse me... _

Harry made his way to the  Auror’s  Office after an unavoidable small talk with some old coworkers. He could barely open the door before Tonks’ arms had thrown around him with so much eagerness he almost lost balance.  He caught a glimpse of Ron behind her. 

“Defying life... again. You never get tired, don’t you?” 

Harry smiled. “Old habits die hard.”

“I thought you’d want a bit more of  vacations  before coming back.”

“I had enough of vacations. Three years, to be precise.” 

Tonks patted him on the shoulder. Her hair was violet gray, but it looked uneven and hulky, “Well, I'm glad to see you again. Alive and well.”

Ron gave him a brief hug as well. 

“Feels like the old times,” he whispered.

Ron and Tonks’ office  was  exactly like Harry remembered it. It was incredibly comforting to be in a place where things hadn’t changed, even if the feeling lasted for only a minute before he remembered that his own office used to be right next to theirs... 

“I was wondering,” Harry finally said, trying to sound casual, but hist guts eating up inside afraid of the answer he could get, “If I could get a look at my old files.”

“Oh.” Ron exclaimed, “You know, Harry, we actually don’t have them anymore.”

“How come?”

“They’ve moved them to the Reorganization Department.” 

“The  _ what _  now?”

“It’s Goldstein’s entourage. They took care of all the bullshit that went down during Kingsley’s last months. I don’t know if you can have access to those files now, Harry. They’re pretty strict.” Tonks explained. 

“Well, but they can’t say no to Harry, can’t they?” Ron barged in, immediately putting Harry’s hopes at the ceiling height. “He’s like, international news in the wizarding world this week. But what do you want those files for, anyways?”

“I’m going to find out what happened to Draco.” 

Those words always proceeded an uncomfortable silence of people not knowing (or not wanting) to respond.

“Harry... you better not go and say that to the Minister’s face.” Ron warned him, “Although it’d be pretty hilarious, you can get in trouble. They had made it clear that the case was closed...”

“How can it be closed if-?” Harry stopped himself. He wouldn’t waste his energy on fighting with Ron about the same matter again, “I’ll be back in a while.”

“Be nice!” Ron advised before Harry got lost behind the door. 

Harry recalled those words as he breathed in and out before knocking on the Minister’s door. A young brunette woman told him to take a seat while she announced that  _ your Lordship will see you soon _ .

Anthony Goldstein was a blond man with rounded cheeks and the ruined appearance of someone who looks older than he actually is. He stuttered while talking and had several facial spasms, but Harry was unsure if this was normal behavior or he just had too much coffee that morning.

“But if it isn’t Harry Potter!” The man shook his hand a bit too tight as he patted him on the shoulder. “This is such a big surprise! And an honor, of course, to have you here after everything that’s happened. You are a hero fallen during duty, and we don’t forget that in here.”

Maybe Ron was right and he could take advantage of his accidental (and completely unwanted) charm. 

“Thank you, Sir. I am very...  _ honored _  to be here, again. I am missing being on service.” He lied, choosing his words very  cautiously .  Golstein  offered Harry a seat across his desk. Harry accepted. 

The Minister’s Office was scolded by shelving units, giant piles of books, files and magical pictures, papers and memo cards –some of them still shivered slightly from the magic of the spell that sent them there. He also seemed to be a fan of souvenirs and antique relics, since he could spot a chinaware figure wherever he looked. 

“That’s so great to hear! Though I don’t think your Healers might agree with you about coming back so soon, young man. You’re still recovering, I imagine.”

“Oh, well, not coming back yet, but... Catching up step by step, you know?” He cleared his throat. Goldstein was carefully listening. “I was thinking, if I could maybe take a look at my old records... that would definitely help me to get back on track.”

“Your record?” Goldstein asked, frowning visibly. His expression had changed from intrigue to displeasure. “Which ones, specifically?”

“Oh, I don’t know... the last ones, maybe?” 

Goldstein leaned into the table and he suddenly had the man’s face closer than what he wished. Maybe his words weren’t so  cautiously  chosen as he thought. 

“Listen, Harry. What happened to your partner was... tragic. He had a period of genuine great work in here. He was talented. Cunning. And he was valuable. But, as much as he tried to fight it, his roots got to him. We lost him to a path that, even though hidden and slight, was stronger than him. I am still grieving for that loss.”

Harry’s nails were scraping the leather of the Minister’s chair. He could not be explaining what Draco was. Not to him. He stared at the empty cup lying on the edge of the table, trying to divert his feelings, as if he could pour them inside the vessel. 

“But since you are recently coming to terms with this, let me show you...” He flickered his wand, and a few seconds later, an envelope flew from the top of one of the shelves to his desk. The envelope opened itself, and the pages of he and Draco’s cases were turned over and over in the speed of light and there it was, in front of Harry, the photograph of Draco’s  Auror  Record with a red stamp crossing it.  _ Death Eater _ . Below, it read, listed in items:  _ Traitor of the  _ _ Auror’s _ _  bow, Bearer of the Dark Mark, Owner of Dark Objects... _

Harry tried to maintain his voice calm, but he still sensed it trembling.  _ “ _ He had the Dark Mark when he applied to be an Auror already, and he passed the training just like everyone else did. They knew that about him, they didn’t judge him upon something that happened when he was sixteen years old. It doesn’t prove anything.”

“He had always had an inclination towards the darks arts...”

“And  so  what? You have no evidence!” Harry sensed his nerves building up to the edge, and made his best to quench them down. 

“We have  _ you _  as the evidence, Potter!” Goldstein claimed, almost as aggravated as Harry. “ _ You _  are the evidence he betrayed the Ministry. He served you in a plate!”

“There were other people in-”

“Who? Can you recall them? Can you truly recall what happened that night?”

Harry became silent. He was so angry he felt he was going to throw up.

Goldstein leaned back on his chair again. His hands were crossed over his belly, but the spams of his fingers were still noticeable.

“So, this case... closed. Are we clear?” 

Goldstein looked at him defiantly. Harry’s urge became stronger, but he didn’t break the contact. 

The cup on the Minister’s table broke into a thousand pieces with a sharp _  cling _ . Then the same happened with the clock on the wall, and the chinaware figures that were placed all over the room...  Harry knew it was his magic getting out of control, and apparently the other man knew too, because as he snapped his fingers Harry felt a dozen of invisible arms pulling him backwards, towards the exit. 

“What are you so afraid of?!” Harry spat out, as the charm continued getting him out of the room. The ongoing piles of files on the shelves were falling down behind the man, who had stood up, trying to avoid the small but powerful outbursts of glass befalling in the room, and then pointed a trembling finger at him. 

“ I don’t want to see you in my office again !  Not for visiting, not looking for a job. You hear me? ! ”

 ***

 

“You got kicked out of the Minister’s Office?”

“You shattered the Minister’s Office?”

“You got  _ fired _ ?”

Tonks, Ron and Hermione were in a mix of shock and disgust. 

“I lost control of my magic.” Harry explained. He was sitting on the floor, in a corner of Ron and Tonks’ office.  The trio was surrounding him , not knowing what to be worried about first. He still felt sick, though something in his stomach just had a huge relief, the entire overwhelm of the situation let him shaking. “I knew it could happen, but I wasn’t expecting it to be like that.” If  anything,  this  made clearer for Harry that there was a greater picture they had missed. They had all missed it three years ago, and they still did now. “They’re hiding something.”

“You don’t think they’re behind Draco’s disappearance, do you?” Hermione had gotten out of her service at the International Magical Office of Law as she received  Ron’s  magical  memo. 

“They basically threatened me to not research, Hermione. What can be more incriminating than that?”

She grimaced at the thought, but couldn’t answer. 

“We’re going to get those files, Harry.” Tonks said. 

Harry looked at her. Out of the three, he didn’t think she’d be the one who supported him the most.

“How?” Hermione asked. “It’s impossible to get to the Reorganization Department. It’s in the same level as the Department of Mysteries.” 

“We’ve managed to get there once, don’t you remember?” Ron commented.

“Barely.” Hermione sighed, then added, looking at the expression on Harry’s face, “I mean, of course we have to try... I just –we didn’t have any jobs to lose when we were in Fifth year.”

“You’re right. I’m not  gonna  ask you anything that could put your jobs at risk.” Harry replied, nodding, and standing up. He got the sudden urge to get out of there, and he needed to do it immediately.

“Harry, wait!” Hermione called him, desperate.

But he had disappeared, practically falling into his bed. He was  _ exhausted. _  This was the most he had done in months, and he had accomplished nothing.

What would Draco be doing right now?

Where would he be?

Was he safe?

Content?

_ Alive?  _

Harry’s fingertips traced the spot in which he used to sleep. He wouldn’t be able to live his life normally without knowing what happened. He just couldn’t. 

“I’m going to find you,” he whispered, almost inaudibly. 

He closed his eyes, and his hand slipped up slowly on the sheet, under the pillow. He caught something. 

He frowned as he took out a little book of black leather. How hadn’t he noticed before that was there? The leather had carved the image of the  _ uroboros - _ a snake eating its own tail, encircling an eye that glanced directly back at him; and inside, it was all but blank pages. 

That book didn’t belong to him. So it had to be Draco’s, though it was, at first sight, a muggle diary or so. However, he still casted a revealing and  _ revelio _  spell. 

The book revealed a number Harry didn’t understand. His heart skipped a beat.

Draco was keeping a secret.

Harry didn’t know what it was, or why he had chosen to keep it from  him.  He didn’t know why it got him missing. 

But the Ministry of Magic had something to do with it.

**Author's Note:**

> If someone even got here, thank you so much for reading and let me know what you think (sorry again lol I will get better by the next chapter promise)


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